


"both the Seen and the Unseen"

by hennethgalad



Category: The Silmarillion.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 08:50:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10850565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: for the SWG challenge 'A Woman's Sceptre'Melian takes Galadriel on a farewell trip





	"both the Seen and the Unseen"

'Woman's Sceptre'

'We realize the importance of light when we see darkness.'

 

"both the Seen and the Unseen"

 

 Galadriel was seething with irritation, organising the expedetion involved hundreds of people, each of whom had hundreds of seemingly trivial questions, each of which needed answering. Celeborn was busy with his own problems, she must deal with these vexing details herself. It was becoming clear to her that she would be dealing with these details in all their future life together, for Celeborn naturally turned to her when any problem arose, she was wiser, far older, and had lived in Valinor under the Light of the Trees, he could not compare with her power.  
 She sighed and turned to the next item on her long list, as the door opened and Melian entered, as serene as ever.  
 'Greetings, my friend, may I interrupt your labours for a short while ?'  
Galadriel rose with a smile 'At last ! The perfect excuse to pause for a rest, for by the Valar, if I do not rest I shall... I shall say things I would regret.'  
 Melian looked at the pile of papers on the table and smiled thoughtfully  
'Is there someone you can appoint to assist you ? To order the papers into vital and minor ? To order the minor issues without you ? To arrange appointments, to restate your position on various matters which you have already dealt with? An aide or secretary ?'  
Galadriel blinked, and ran her hand tiredly through her hair, it felt heavy and dank, the endless hours poring over documents in these caves, with no sign of the sky, was draining her spirit. Melian nodded to herself, unseen by the distracted Galadriel.  
   
'I have a task to accomplish. It will take several days, for I must travel  far from here in order to reach the place I must get to. I would ask for your company, on my little expedition, before you leave our House forever.'  
 Galadriel looked at her with a kind of horror, leaving Menegroth would also mean leaving Melian, and Galadriel could not imagine a better friend than Melian, whose wisdom and kindness exceeded that of any that Galadriel had encountered since crossing the ice, and indeed, almost all those she had left behind.  
 'How can I leave here, how can I leave you ? What madness has possessed me ?'  
Melian smiled gravely 'Your words warm my heart. But the vexation of your spirit disturbs your thoughts, I urge you to rest; come with me on my errand and when we return, perhaps your mood will be altered, and your problems simpler.'  
 Galadriel rubbed her forehead with her fingers  
 'Your words are wise, my reaction proves them true, it is a sign that I must heed them. Very well. I shall find an assistant, and I shall follow you gladly, and do my best not to bore you with my irritating little problems.'

 Melian nodded, though privately she thought that the concentration required to solve the hundreds of small problems was distracting the mind of Galadriel from dwelling on her grief at the long parting to come. Melian too would miss Galadriel; her best and wisest student, filled with the Light, bringing joy with her from the undying lands, lighting up the faces of all with her shining beauty, grace and kindness. She looked at the elf, cursing the recalcitrant clasp of a travelling-cloak, caught in her golden hair. Melian stepped forwards and untangled the knot, Galadriel sighed again  
 'Are you certain that you wish for my company ? It seems that I can barely fasten my cloak without becoming enraged.'  
Melian laid her hand upon the arm of Galadriel   
 'That is merely another reason why you must rest. Indeed, why you should find an assistant.'  
Galadriel nodded 'Your words are as wise as ever, I do need a rest, and I shall consider whom to appoint while we travel.'  
 'I hope you do not' laughed Melian 'For I would share your company, your thoughts and your laughter on our final journey together, not have you brooding over the relative clerical skills of your acquaintances and friends.'  
 Galadriel frowned 'Clerical skills...' she mused 'But I feel it would be more important that they know my mind, and understand the importance of the problems, and can work in harmony with me in dealing with matters as they arise.'  
 'I advise that you leave word that you seek an assistant, and then dismiss it from your mind. When you return, you may sort through the pile of applications that you will certainly recieve at your pleasure, and choose the worthiest few. Conversing with each of those will swiftly determine your choice, I believe.'  
 'A pile ? You flatter me, my lady, but your notion is sensible. A true rest, and in your company, would most certainly be my pleasure. I am ready.'  
 She hoisted a small pack onto her shoulder and smiled at Melian, already she looked easier in spirit, as though instead of picking up a load, she had laid one down. Melian felt an almost painful warmth in her heart; these Noldor, with their absurd quest to reclaim the prized treasure from the fallen Vala filled her with pity and love - they could not win, they knew that they could not win, yet they fought on with such valour that it seemed heartless to even speak of their inevitable defeat. It broke her heart altogether, not only to be sending Galadriel away, but to know that all those who remained would be destroyed. Galadriel was looking at her uncertainly; she smoothed her brow 'Come then, my friend, let us ride through the forest in the sunlight.'

 On the first night they rested at a small settlement high in the great trees of Doriath, at the hall of an old friend of Melian. The lavish hospitality was presented gracefully by their hosts, all those present spoke and dressed as Sindar, but there were several there wearing the shells, beads and feathers of the wood-elves, whose long traditions were deeply ingrained. Galadriel, who had had few dealings with them, finding them reserved and stolid, generally, noted the same behaviour here. They seemed to lack the restless curiosity of the Noldor, or even the desire to further their understanding of the world of the Sindar. Some had accepted the settled lifestyle of hearth and home, but the the self-contained stoicism that had endured a life in the open, eating cold, raw food and calling it contentment, had left them drifting to the corners of conversations, dance-floors and rooms. They were slow of laughter and sparing of speech, but their infrequent words were pointed and apt. Galadriel found herself admiring them without warming to them. Melian spoke quietly to her while jugglers threw lighted torches to each other.

 'Why do you brood still ?'  
 Galadriel smiled apologetically 'I was thinking of the wood-elves, but my mood shaped my face. I find them difficult to like, or even know...'  
 'I fear that your mood shaped your mind also, if you find them difficult to like. They are true-hearted, valiant and kind, and in time, you will find you have come to treasure their tireless strength. They have not had the playful education that you enjoyed, life is as hard for an infant as for a strong adult, but this gives them a sense of fairness and equality that I fear we have lost. Or perhaps we have buried our fairness deep within ourselves and chosen to ignore it,  finding entertainment in the struggles of those we say we love, as they compete with others.  
 But I too am brooding... Yes, they are a fascinating people, and you will find many more of them across the Ered Luin, and in time remember my words with a smile.'  
 Galadriel looked thoughtfully at Melian, she herself had always been proud to be royal, but as she watched the wood-elves drinking and smiling, she wondered what the word royal really meant, if anything. The rain and wind did not spare her, the cold bit her, the sun scorched her, water tasted the same to her as to the humblest child of the woods, and no possible hoard could make her honey sweeter than theirs. She mused on their lives, and began to wonder if their pleasures, being fewer, did not therefore mean more to them, and if the pampered Noldor had become sated in Valinor. Even her own father, though he had returned, had set out on the march with them...  
 She spoke of her thoughts to Melian, and they talked quietly, long into the night, while dancers, musicians and poets entertained the guests. 

 The morning mist lingered throughout the next day, they moved cautiously down the overgrown path wandering through the trees. Melian herself had begun this path, moving from one interesting plant to another, and returning over the years, and sending others in her steps. Now the way led to a cabin in a great oak, on the bank of the Aros, at the very border of Doriath. They paused to eat and rest the horses, but Galadriel was aware of Melian seeming to sniff the air, and examine her surroundings minutely.  
 Melian wrinkled her nose and stood very slowly. Galadriel began to rise, but Melian waved her down with a smile, and continued to sniff the still air. She stepped towards an old tree, in a small hollow in the forest floor, and took a small trowel from her satchel. She sniffed again, moved slightly around the trunk of the tree and swept aside the twigs and leaves. On one knee, she carefully slid the trowel into the rich red soil, lifting aside small clumps. Galadriel realized that Melian had found a truffle, and marvelled at her maian senses; she herself could distinguish nothing from among the complex swirl of aromas of the forest. The mild stillness had filled the air with the scent of flowers, the background green of the breath of leaves overlaid the dark notes of last year's growth, returning to the earth.  
 Melian laughed gaily and lifted a wrinkled black truffle from the soil, brushing it clean, sniffing it enthusiastically. She turned to Galadriel with shining eyes   
 'I adore truffles !' she said excitedly. Galadriel smiled fondly at her.  
 'I know you do. I wish I could find them as you do.'  
Melian smiled keenly at Galadriel  
 'The wood-elves are able to find truffles. It may be that they have things to teach as well as to learn. '  
 'I fear that we are better at asking questions than we are at listening to answers.'  
Melian bowed her head and did not reply. They packed away their picnic in silence, Galadriel felt as though she herself were responsible somehow for the bizarre behaviour of her entire kin, marching into Beleriand as though it were empty, ignoring the many peoples scattered throughout its wide lands, and blowing their pitiful trumpets in the face of the Enemy, like children attacking a knight on horseback.   
 'You must find the folly of the Finwëans absurd. I hope you can forgive us.'  
Melian laughed 'Ask me that question again when we have dined, for the moment my thoughts are filled with anticipation at the thought of this truffle !'

The cabin was built around the trunk of the tree, high in the branches; it was circular, made of shaped stone, with a high dome of thatch, covered in honeysuckle and sweet-pea, which rambled up the trunk of the oak, and filled the clearing with their heady scents. A narrow balcony surrounded it, overhung with curtains of flowers. On the southern side, a broad talan stretched out among the branches, where Melian liked best to sit, gazing out across the treetops. Lights glowed in the many small windows and blue-grey smoke rose from the leafy stone chimney. The evening had lifted a slight breeze and cleared away the mist.  
  An elf in undyed cloth, a garland of flowers in her hair, emerged from the cabin and ran lightly down the circing stairs built around the trunk, and overgrown and overhung with the vigorous flowers.  
  'All is prepared as you requested, my lady. Welcome back !' She bowed with a hand on her chest, darted behind the tree and was gone. Galadriel said nothing, the wood-elves did not waste words; Melian was grateful, the elf had taken her thanks as understood, and left.  
 They climbed the sweet-smelling stairs and Melian led the way into the old cabin. The floor was of polished stone, the domed roof had been plastered and painted with the branches of winter trees against a hazy grey sky. The artist had been skillful, the illusion was disturbingly convincing, and the low walls made even one as accustomed to trees as Galadriel uneasy with the sense of being at once enclosed and in the open. But the fire crackled in the hearth, the table was laden with food and wine, and steaming water stood by for bathing.

 Melian took off her cloak, shook out her hair and smiled at Galadriel   
  'I love this place, it is so peaceful and so far from Menegroth. It is my sanctuary and refuge when all the little problems become snarled into a large knot. Here I sit, breathing with trees, and letting the knots dissolve in the sea of distance.'  
 She carefully unpacked the truffle and placed it on the table, then poured two goblets of wine. Galadriel followed her out onto the talan, where they sat on a bench of carven wood, and watched the setting sun send long flickering shadows through the high branches, listening to the cheerful songs of birds and the soft oceanic hiss of the leaves. The air was a golden haze, Galadriel felt she was inhaling the very sunlight. A sudden vivid memory of Valinor stabbed at her heart, she smiled wryly, it seemed fitting that the happier she was in this remote middle-earth, the more she longed to be back in Tirion, faced with no problem more onerous than the choice of which garments to wear, or music to enjoy or food to savour. She ruthlessly tore her mind away from the path of regret and drank deeply of her wine.

 Beside her Melian was humming softly, a haunting sound, with complex half-notes that seemed to be almost off key, warbling and bubbling like a small stream. Quiet disturbances in the trees around her set small twigs swaying, a blackbird leaped protesting into the air, and from all around came the nightingales. They circled in the bright air of the clearing, and gradually began to descend, landing with little hops on the roof, the railing, on chairs, on the outstretched arm of Melian, and one perched on the rim of the goblet in the hand of Galadriel, its tiny claw-feet sending a delicate ring through the silver. It cocked its head at Galadriel who smiled at it, and held herself still. It resettled its wings, turned to face Melian, then hopped onto her shoulder. Melian turned her head, the nightingale pecked carefully, tenderly at her lips and she sang a few notes to it. The maia and the bird, seeming now as one creature, turned to look at Galadriel.  
 'My lady,' said Galadriel with a smile 'I feel the restful influence of your sanctuary easing my spirit. Thankyou for bringing me here.'  
Melian smiled her complex smile, at once wistful and amused. Galadriel shrank from the thought of the loneliness of Melian, for Galadriel herself was here with family and friends, she would soon marry, her people were all around. Melian the maia, almost alone of her kind, had chosen the form of an elf, and the love of an elf, and must be weeping inside for want of an understanding spirit with whom to share her thoughts. Galadriel felt tiny and feeble, as significant as a small brown bird. She looked down at the nightingale, its shining inscrutable eye looked back at her, it turned its head, as though to use the other eye to be certain of what it was seeing. Melian smiled and said  
 'Galadriel, my dearest friend, thankyou for coming. I wished both to ease your spirit and inspire your heart.' She rose, Galadriel rose with her. They stepped towards the edge of the talan and Miriel gazed south. Below them, almost at their feet, the rusty coloured waters of the Aros hurried by, their sound almost lost in the evening breeze in the trees. Beyond the Aros lay the realms of the sons of Fëanor, nominally subject to the rule of Fingolfin, but in truth driven chiefly by their Oath, the quest of the Silmaril. The skin of Galadriel tingled and itched, more intensely than the imminent onset of a storm, she could feel the disaster approach as though borne on a wind, which for the present was withdrawing, as the inhalation of a wave, in preparation for the great destructive surge that would sweep away all in its path. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the railing, cringing back as though the darkness were visible, climbing the sky, stretching from horizon to horizon, ready to engulf...  
 Melian's hand was on her shoulder. She looked up, her heart pounding, her mouth dry with terror.  
  Melian smiled reassuringly 'I hope that wherever you go, you will take something of Doriath with you, and venerate the forest as I do. I shall not lecture you again on the mutual dependency of all that lives; you are my finest student, and I trust that you will use your knowledge wisely.' she gestured slowly to the south  
 'In the midst of our joy, we are surrounded by darkness. Even now, scouts of the enemy move across the face of Beleriand. You must flee, my friend. You must flee very soon, and travel very far. Others will follow as the darkness grows, but alas for my Thingol, he will never leave Menegroth, and I will never leave him. We shall await the end here.' she sighed 'I am sorry, my friend, but here at the edge of our realm, I feel the horror of the Enemy on my very skin.' she shivered, then stood up straight, turned to face the west and raised her goblet in the Salute to Valinor. Galadriel joined her, and thought with a painful throat and raw eyes of her parents in their garden, looking out at the bright woods and the lake by Tirion.   
 Melian turned and opened the low door in the wall of the cabin, the nightingale chirruped once, then swooped down among the branches and away. Galadriel followed her inside.  
 The fire had reached its fiercest heat, the wood-elf had prepared vegetables, Melian threw onions into the pot, and the familiar frying smell brought the mind of Galadriel back from roaming in the uncertain twilight of the future. Melian added celery and carrots, stirring briskly with a long wooden spoon. She turned to Galadriel 'Will you prepare a dressing for the salad, with the truffle ?'  
 Galadriel smiled eagerly 'It would be my pleasure, it is a magnificent truffle. Are there particular herbs you would like me to use ?' Melian laughed  
 'My friend, I trust in your culinary artistry, I shall prepare the broth, you create the salad dressing !'  
   
 They chattered and laughed as they worked, the tiny details of life in Menegroth absorbed them both, while their experienced hands prepared the food. The clothes, art, music, songs and relationships of their friends had them laughing until finally Melian began to sing. Galadriel paused in her chopping to drink from her goblet, and added the handful of dill to the bowl. Melian, singing as she moved, drank from her own goblet, then poured the rest into the pot. The wine hissed and spat as it landed on the hot vegetables, Melian stirred briskly and a cloud of aromatic steam rose around her. Galadriel sniffed hungrily, and ate a piece of carrot. Melian added mushrooms to her pot, and stirred more slowly.   
 Galadriel took up the mortar and pestle and carefully sliced some of the truffle into it. She poured in a little walnut oil and blended them together. When the paste was smooth she added wine from her goblet, then seasoning. Melian paused in her song and looked at Galadriel   
 'How are things with you and Celeborn?'  
Galadriel smiled 'They...all is well. His heart is as beautiful as his face, the more I know him, the more I love him. Any shadow that may fall on us will come from outside, for nothing now stands between us.'  
 Melian nodded 'All is well.' she echoed. 'I am glad, for you will have great need of each other in the years to come.' She turned back to her pot and they worked in silence, Melian poured the stock onto the fried vegetables, and threw in great bunches of thyme and dill, then a handful of chopped chestnuts, already roasted. The savoury odour made Galadriel's mouth water, she sipped her wine and began to slice the plaited loaf, scattering poppy seeds from the crust onto the carved wooden chopping board. Melian stepped around the table and dipped a finger into the salad dressing, then broke off a crust of bread, dipped it and ate. Galadriel looked questioningly at her. Melian pursed her lips 'It is difficult to say until you have added the herbs. Perhaps a little more salt...' Galadriel dipped some bread and tasted the richness of the truffle. It astonished her, the capacity of fungus to distil the essence of the forest and all its life, and to produce such complexity of flavour in so seemingly simple a life as a mushroom, or a truffle.   
  Melian was right, she added more salt and tasted the now perfect dressing with a smile. Melian filled their goblets and looked seriously at Galadriel  
 'There is something that I would show you, while the broth simmers.'  
She led the way around the central trunk, the other side of the cabin contained a bed, a small table by a window seat, and a desk. The front of the desk folded out, Melian opened it and unrolled a large parchment. It was a map, a great map of all the known lands of middle earth. Melian weighed down the corners with candlesticks, and lit the candles. They looked at the map together. In the centre, brightly coloured, was Doriath, around it the names of Galadriel's brothers and cousins, and the names of the lands they defended. But to the south and east, only the bare bones of the land were marked, mountains and large rivers. No sign of habitation broke the emptiness of the parchment, anywhere else in Arda.

Melian turned to Galadriel, one hand gesturing to the map. 'The dwarves bring strange spices, colourful cloth, gems and rare goods from far lands, other cultures must dwell there, but the dwarves will not share their knowledge, and we cannot stretch ourselves so thin as to explore these lands. Some have gone, foolhardy spirits, but no traveller has returned, nor any word, from east or south. You will be travelling into the unknown, my friend. '  
 Galadriel sighed 'Not for the first time, my dear friend, for we crossed the ice in darkness, expecting to live with only the starlight for the rest of time. But out of the darkness the light of moon and sun arose, and here in the unknown lands of middle-earth I have found many friends, though none as wonderful as you, and I have found a partner with whom to share my life, wise and good and beautiful. I am eager to see what lies beyond the Ered Luin, the unknown future beckons me like a delicious scent drifting in the evening air.'


End file.
